


Swallow

by TheTerrorDome



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Hearing Voices, Ink, Questioning Sanity, Wally always ruins the scares, bendy cutouts, i guess force feeding in a way?, ink swallowing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 03:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20959427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTerrorDome/pseuds/TheTerrorDome
Summary: How can you curve a craving? Ever since a "workplace mishap" as Joey put it, Sammy can't bring himself to even look at the ink. It's all in his head though, right?





	Swallow

**Author's Note:**

> Inktober day 8, Inky snack. Sammy losing his sanity is just so -chef's kiss-

The first time he swallowed ink it was an accident. The pipes in the building were so faulty a workplace incident was bound to happen. Sammy just didn’t think he’d be involved. A small leak wouldn’t have been such a big deal, if it wasn’t directly over his desk. Then the small leak became a big leak. He had to work in the recording studio for three days while the men from Gent fixed it. Three whole days. Three whole days of having to wear earplugs while people came in and out, practicing their instruments and lines.

When his office was finally fixed, the bastards had actually made it worse. A pump. They put a pump in his office to stop the leak. And to stop all leaks apparently as the pipes in his office were the only ones with a four way intersection that connected the rest of them aside from the ink machine itself. Whatever engineering garble they came up with was irrelevant to Sammy. He was a musician. A composer for fucks sake! How was he supposed to make music with ink sloshing above him and people coming in and out to fuck with a damn pump. 

The ink was like blood running through his veins. He couldn’t escape it. Lying in bed at night he could still hear it in the pipes, crawling. Crawling towards God knows what. He didn’t know how to escape it. 

That led him to face his problems head on. It helped that Wally sucked at his job, so all he had to do was wait for an opportunity. Gossip spread through the studio like wildfire. Once he heard of another leak, he put his plan into motion. 

People attempted to talk to him as he walked through the halls. He knew he was walking too fast. He looked awkward and suspicious. But they knew better than to question him. 

Going down a flight of stairs, he came across a bucket. Ink drizzled in it from a pipe implanted in the wall. Holding his breath, he pulled an empty jar out of his pocket and bent in front of the bucket. Looking around wildly, he dunked it into the ink filling it up as quickly as possible before corking it. Sammy wiped his hands off on his pants, sliding the wet jar in his pocket. He looked around again. He didn’t know how he would explain what he was doing. He didn’t even know what he was doing. 

Going back up to the music department, Sammy continuously wiped his hands off on his pants again and again. The ink had stained his hands leaving them a sickly grey color. No one stopped him. Most of the workers had more or less left Sammy alone. 

The door to his office slammed shut, the Bendy cutout in the corner stared at him. Sammy walked over to it, turning it to face the wall. He didn’t need any eyes judging him. The chair next to his desk was soft. Sammy sunk into it slowly, fishing the jar out of his pocket. The ink was glossy. Almost like oil. Why was he doing this? He set the jar on his desk. It stared back at him. 

_ “Sammy.” _

The Bendy cutout was facing him again. Closer than before. 

_ “Drink it, Sammy. Like liquid courage!”  _

A lump formed in the back of his throat. He was imagining it 

_ “Nope, Sammy, I’m about as real as you! If I’m imaginary, what does that make you?” _

Sammy jolted up from his seat. Walking to the door, the Bendy cutout materialized in front of it.

_ “Down the hatch, Sammy!” _

He backed into the wall adjacent to the door. The Bendy cutout smiled at him. Sammy clutched his head. “You’re not real,” he whimpered.

_ “Yes, I am. Yes, I am. Yes, I am!” _

It grew quiet. Sammy kept his head between his legs, breathing hard. Slowly, he looked up. Sammy knocked his head against the wall with a sharp cry. The Bendy cutout sat in front of him. Clambering up, Sammy hid under his desk with his hands pressed over his ears. 

_ “I’ll leave you alone as soon as you take your medicine, Sammy!” _

Sammy curled into himself. It couldn’t be real. He was going crazy. The desk shook.

_ “Drink it! Drink it! Drink it!” _

Sammy reached over the desk, feeling around until he grasped the small bottle. Pulling it down he kept his eyes closed.

_ “Drink it, Sammy! Drink it!” _

With his eyes shut tight, Sammy uncorked the bottle. The ink smelled strongly. His nose wrinkled. Why was he doing this?

_ “Don’t make me come under there!” _

Sammy took a deep breath before putting the bottle to his lips and tossing back the deep black liquid. His throat burned, his eyes teared up.

_ “That’s it! What a good boy!” _

Forcing himself to swallow, Sammy opened his eyes. A few tears streaked down his cheeks and he let out a breathy sob. 

“Are you happy now?” he cried.

There was a long pause. Sammy hugged his knees to his chest. 

“I’m really sorry, Sammy, I didn’t mean to lose ‘em again. Are you okay? Do you need me to.. to get someone?”

Sammy shot up from behind his desk. In the doorway stood Wally, sheepishly shifting from foot to foot. 

“I could’a sworn I left them somewhere around here.”

Sammy inhaled sharply. “Wally.”

“Yeah?”

“Get the hell out of my office.”

Wally whistled. “Always so cold with me, aren’t ya? But, Sammy, what's that black stuff on ya chin?”

Sammy’s face burned. He quickly pushed Wally out the door and slammed it shut, locking it. Alone again, he slowly turned towards the corner. 

The cutout was gone. 


End file.
